


Choices

by DarkWiccan



Series: Actions and Consequences [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Difficult Decisions, F/F, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkWiccan/pseuds/DarkWiccan
Summary: Tara has an impossible decision to make.Sequel to my 2003 story: The Fine Print





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Season 6, picks up after 'Tabula Rasa'. References to 'Smashed' and 'Wrecked' and beyond – although I’ve decided that the episode 'Gone' doesn’t really exist for the purposes of this story.
> 
> WARNINGS: Super angst. Trigger warning. I won’t go into detail (because, spoilers), but I am not kidding. Kleenex will be needed… and possibly anxiety meds. 
> 
> As I often try to do with my stories, I am tackling a tough subject rarely (if ever) seen in fics. In this case it’s a hot button issue that brings out strong emotions in a lot of people.
> 
> If, for mental health reasons, you need to know what the potential triggers are in advance, PM me. 
> 
> Final Notes: The Fine Print was a comedy. This story is not. Thoughts in italics

 

 

 

Tara was calm. Strangely so. The situation she now found herself in was not entirely a surprise. It had always been a possibility – no matter how slim.

 

So, what did it mean? What were she and Willow going to do now? 

 

Especially now?

 

First things first, she had to tell Willow. 

 

Actually, first things first, she had to make up her mind about a few things and  **then**  she had to tell Willow.

 

She'd always been a firm supporter of choices. Easy or hard, a person should always have the right to make their own decisions. But this was a huge decision. And whatever she decided, it wouldn't only affect her.

 

Thinking back on the past couple of months, she couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed anything sooner. _I mean, hello! Kind of a huge thing to miss_ _!_ To be sure, a lot had been going on. Buffy's resurrection and the chaos that came with it, demons that made the town dance and sing, Willow's betrayal. Their separation, now only seven days old. 

 

So much had happened in just 8 weeks.

 

But this. This had happened before all of that. Only, she hadn't known it - not really - until now.

 

Tara supposed, if she wanted to play the victim, that she could put the blame on Willow. After all, the redhead had been the one to cast that stupid, misguided, spell on herself. But Tara had to admit that it was she who had pressured her girlfriend into them taking advantage of the "once in a lifetime" opportunity the spell had presented. She was the one, not Willow, who had cajoled and urged and teased until the redhead had given in. What had been her reasoning at the time? That it would be fun? Unique? A cheap, even slightly kinky, thrill? Making the best of an odd situation?

 

The potential consequences had literally only been an afterthought. It was nothing they had ever had to worry about before. Why would they have?

 

Even so, Willow had been so certain that what they'd done wouldn't amount to anything and Tara had been perfectly happy to agree. Because it had been easier to agree, rather than worry. It was easier to let it go, rather than stay vigilant.

 

And now here she was; and by extension, so was Willow - whether they were together as a couple or not.

 

 _It takes two to tango_ , she thought ruefully. Suddenly, the lyrics to a golden oldie song that used to play on the jukebox at the diner back home floated to the forefront of her mind.

 

" _It takes two, baby,_

_It takes two, baby,_

_Me and you._

_It just takes two._ "

 

 _Oh, goddess, Willow_ , she thought pitifully, her preternatural calm beginning to slip, _what are we going to do?_

 

The sudden, jarring, sound of her dorm room phone startled her from her thoughts. Pressing her hand to her chest to still her wildly beating heart, she swallowed a gulp to settle her nerves and answered it.

 

"H-hello?"

 

"Hey Tara, it's Dawn. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for Movie and Milkshake Fun Day?"

 

The blonde glanced to the clock, noticed the time for the first time. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, Dawnie. Guess I'm late." _In more ways than one_ , she added to herself, wryly. "But, I'm on my way now. I'll be there in about half an hour, ok?"

 

"Ok!" The teenager replied brightly. "See you then!"

 

"Yep," said Tara, trying to match the youngster's enthusiasm. "See you then." She started to hang up and then stopped. "Oh, hey, wait - Dawn?" She spoke quickly into the receiver.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Do you m-mind... can you meet me outside? In front of the house? I just... it's too... I c-can't--"

 

"Sure, Tara. It's okay. I understand. I'll meet you out front in thirty."

 

"Great. Thanks, Dawn. Bye."

 

"Bye."

 

She hung up. _Way to be brave, Tara_ _._ She rolled her eyes. _Way to face this thing head on._ She shook her head and took a breath. _It doesn't matter._ _Tonight_ _is about Dawnie, not my and Willow's mess_ _._

 

She grabbed her knee-length cardigan and keys and started out the door. As she walked across the university campus she worked to focus her thoughts fully on Dawn and the afternoon and evening ahead.

 

She'd been working on a small speech. Short, but reassuring. It was so important to her that Dawn understood that no matter what, Tara would there for her. She was certain that the teenager was probably drawing parallels between her leaving Willow and Hank and Joyce's divorce. 

 

Tara didn't want Dawn to worry or blame herself.

 

Plus, concern for Dawn had the added benefit of temporarily distracting her from the larger matter at hand. The one she had to see Willow about. The one that was going to change everything. 

 

She still had decisions to make.

 

But that was for later.

 

For now, she'd manage with movies... and milkshakes... and fun. If she could remember what fun looked like.

 

Her Momma's favorite bit of advice drifted across her mind:  

 

" _Fake it 'til you make it, Tara-baby. Fake it 'til you make it._ "

 

***

 

The next morning, Tara found herself speed-walking as fast as she could away from the Summers home. She was angry. It was an emotion she'd found herself growing increasingly familiar with over the past month - and she hated it. 

 

So, Willow had figured out how to de-rat Amy? _So much for giving up magick._ And now that Amy was herself again, it didn't take any effort to see that the two of them were the worst possible influences on each other.

 

Even worse, it meant that Tara's leaving had only made Willow double-down on her magick use. The exact opposite of what the blonde had hoped would happen.

 

Yet more painful, Dawn had actually managed to get Tara's hopes up over milkshakes the previous day. The teenager had mentioned that Willow had been doing better, was being more careful. Tara would have preferred to hear that the redhead had been abstaining completely. But "careful" was at least an improvement. 

 

Then, this morning, it was made abundantly clear that "careful" was the last thing Willow was being.

 

A powerful wave of nausea suddenly overtook her and she found herself lunging for a nearby bush, hurling the last night's dinner onto leaves and branches. Once spent of ammunition, she stood up with a groan, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

 

Her rage and disappointment had subsided as she was faced with a sobering realization.

 

 _Maybe I_ ** _am_** _going to have to face this on my own_ , she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. _Can I? Am I strong enough?_ Her jaw tightened in resolve, and she tipped her head up, unwilling to stay bowed. _Yes, I am_ _._ She started walking again, back toward the campus and then stopped. _But strong enough for what? To say yes to this? To say…no?_

 

Tara started walking, her pace slower than before, as she mentally weighed her options. _I’d always hoped for this, but someday – not now. Not like this. It was never meant to be a surprise. Planning should have been involved. Lots of planning. And stability. And… same page-y-ness._ She smirked to herself. _As Willow would say._ Her expression soured. _Dammit, Willow._ Did she want this with Willow? If the question had been asked of her only three months ago, she would have said “Yes” without hesitation. _But now…._ She pursed her lips together in a tight line, chewing on them slightly. A nervous habit.

 

She tried to separate from the reality and think about it in theory. _If the Willow now had been the Willow then?_ But, of course, the Willow of now was the Willow of then… the only thing that had changed was Tara’s awareness. She rephrased the question. _If I had known then what I know now… would I want this?_ The heart-cold answer blurred her vision with tears. She swiped at them with her hand. _No. I wouldn’t._

 

She allowed herself to really cry then. To give into the anguish, the mourning, the loss. Not caring that she was in public and easily seen. It was the second time in as many weeks that she’d made this trip from the Summers’ home back to campus with eyes puffy, nose running, face blotchy. There was a time she would have hid her emotion. Now she just didn’t care who saw.

 

By the time she was walking across the university quad the tears had subsided and a quiet resolve had taken the place of her grief.  She still hadn’t made her final decision. But the choice was clearer now. And she found herself leaning more firmly in one direction over the other.

 

She’d give herself a couple of days. There was at least enough time still for that. But then she would decide. And regardless of what that decision was, she would have to tell Willow.

 

***

 

Tara shakily replaced the handset to the phone’s cradle and let out an unsteady breath. In the twenty-four hours since she had last seen Willow – with Amy – a lot had happened. All of it bad.

 

Willow had taken Dawnie to a black magick… _what… drug den_? Had accidentally summoned a demon, putting them both in danger. She’d stolen a car, driven while high, and wrecked it – breaking Dawn’s arm.

 

Willow had hurt Dawnie. The young girl who was, in many ways, the child of their heart. Willow had hurt her. Damaged her. Physically and emotionally. The blonde wasn’t sure such betrayals could be easily forgiven. But it had done one thing. It had made Tara’s mind up for her.

 

Tara ran back through the brief conversation she’d had with Buffy just now. The slayer had been calm. But Tara could hear in her voice that she was also sad and very, very, tired. Even so, Buffy had made a point of telling her that Willow had firmly resolved to give up magick. That she’d been scared straight. “But, you know,” Buffy had said, “not entirely. Still gay.” They’d both laughed a little at the attempt at humor. “She’s serious, though, Tara. I think last night was her rock-bottom.”

 

“D-does she know you’re calling me?”

 

“No. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing… to tell her…or not.”

 

They’d sat quietly on the phone for a few moments after that.

 

“Buffy, I… I need to talk to her. There are… things… we… we n-need to discuss.”

 

“Of course,” Buffy had replied. “Do you want me to get her? I think she’s awake by now.”

 

“N-no. This… I should see her in p-person. Will she be home this afternoon?”

 

“Yeah. Definitely. I don’t think she’s going to be up to leaving the house for a few days.”

 

Tara had gripped the handset more tightly then. “Alright. I’ll…. I’ll come by this afternoon.”

 

“Okay. But, Tara… I should warn you. She’s in rough shape. I think she’s going through whatever the magickal equivalent of ‘DT’s’ are.”

 

 _Maybe I should wait._ Tara had shaken her head, once again finding her resolve. _No. No, if I wait I’ll… I’ll change my mind again._

 

“Ok,” she’d said instead. “I’ll keep that in mind. P-prepare myself.”

 

“Ok,” echoed Buffy. “We’ll see you this afternoon then?”

 

“Yes. Oh, and Buffy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I need to talk to Will alone and… I don’t want Dawn to overhear.”

 

“Oh,” Buffy had said, “sure. Ok, whatever you need. I’ll take Dawn out for ice cream or something. But… she’ll still want to see you. She’s… she’s been asking for you.”

 

“I know, and, she will. But I have to deal with this other thing with Willow first.”

 

“Ok, see you later then.”

 

“Bye, Buffy.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Tara stared at the phone sitting in its cradle. She was tired. Bone-achingly tired. She wasn’t certain whether it was a reaction to the phone call, or a symptom of… other things. She wrapped her arms around her body, which daily was beginning to feel more and more unfamiliar. The changes couldn’t be ignored.

 

She glanced at the clock. She’d give herself until two p.m., and then head over. Face the inevitable.

 

***

 

Tara stood in the upstairs hall of the Summers’ home, staring at the bedroom door that used to be hers. Hers and Willow’s.

 

Just Willow’s now.

 

Buffy had left a few minutes earlier, with Dawn unhappily in tow. The teenager had looked at her with wounded, worried, eyes. She had known that whatever Tara was there to talk to Willow about, it wasn’t going to be good. Tara could tell that Dawn was angry, but still hopeful. She was still young enough to be hopeful.

 

Refocusing on the door, she raised her loose fist and rapped on the wood lightly.

 

“You don’t have to keep checking on me, Buff,” Willow’s voice said weakly through the door. “I just have to get through this.”

 

Tara cleared her throat. “Willow, it’s me.”

 

“Tara?”

 

“Y-yeah. Can… can I come in?”

 

She could hear Willow shift on the bed, covers rustling, springs squeaking. “Tara, you…. You really shouldn’t see me like this.”

 

She placed her hand on the door knob, preparing to turn it. “It’s ok, Will. Buffy told me. We just… I need to talk to you. Face to face.” She waited. When a reply didn’t come, she added, “It’s important, Willow. Please.”

 

After another moment of silence, the redhead finally replied, “Ok.”

 

Pushing into the room, Tara turned to look at Willow, seated cross-legged at the head of the bed, her back against the headboard. The redhead looked so small, dressed in an oversized UCSD hooded sweatshirt and a ratty pair of old sweatpants. Her expression looked fragile and wan and her normally vibrant hair hung limply, framing her face. Feeling the weight of the blonde’s scrutiny, Willow crossed her arms across her chest defensively.

 

“Hi,” she said meekly.

 

“Hi,” Tara replied. She felt awkward, standing there, practically towering over the girl on the bed. Desperate to break the tension, she walked over to the desk and set her purse there before turning back to face the redhead, now at a more comfortable, less judgmental, distance.

 

“So,” Willow said nervously, her right hand picking at the material covering her left shoulder. “You wanted to talk?”

 

Tara sighed, no more stalling. It was time. “Yes. But… it’s not about what you think.”

 

Willow’s brow crinkled. _If it isn’t about magick, or Dawn, and everything that happened… then what?_ “Oh…um… is it about us?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The redhead shifted in her seat nervously. “Is it… bad?” She said, her voice practically a whisper. “For us… I mean?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tara answered honestly. “It might be.”

 

Willow could already feel the pinpricks of tears in her eyes. In her current exhausted, decimated, state her emotions were outside of her control. She fought with whatever strength she could manage to keep herself together. “What is it,” she asked, barely audible, her breath catching in her throat.

 

Tara let out a long, slow, breath. She leaned back against the desk, her hands pressing into the table top on either side of her hips. She looked down a moment to gather her courage, and then up again and into Willow’s eyes.

 

“I’m pregnant.”

 

Willow blinked. Her complexion shifted from merely pale, to sheet white. For a moment, she thought she might faint. She dropped her arms, clutching at the bedspread, holding on for dear life. “What? How? Whose?”

 

“Yours.”

 

“What? How? But, I’m… That’s impossible because I’m…”

 

“The only ‘man’ I’ve ever been with,” she finished simply, waiting for the redhead to remember and finally connect the dots.

 

“Um, no,” Willow countered, increasingly flustered. “I think not. I am definitely not a man, Tara. You’d know that better than most – I would hope. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a man.”

 

Tara pushed away from the desk and took a few strides toward the bed, facing the girl down. “You may not be one now, Willow. But you have been one in the past. At least physically. For twenty-four hours, about ten weeks ago.”

 

“What? I…” she drifted off as the memory surfaced and realization dawned. “Oh…” She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” said Tara exhaling and sitting on the end of the bed, her hands in her lap.

 

“How long have you known?”

 

“A few days.”

 

The redhead leaned forward, her knees dropping back down into a semi-lotus position. “Only a few days? Really?” She was genuinely curious, nonaccusational. She kept her tone gentle and cautious. “You didn’t notice anything… before that?”

 

“You didn’t either,” Tara noted. “Honestly, I think you kept better track of my cycles most of the time than I did.” Willow nodded sheepishly. “Things have been so crazy recently, Will. We just… didn’t notice.” She shrugged.

 

Willow nodded again, absorbing this new information.  It was a lot. It was big. But was it bad? _No... no it can’t be bad, right? It’s scary. It’s unexpected. But… we… created this. We made this… and it was out of love. So… that can’t be bad. It’s not even close to bad. It’s…it’s…_ “A baby,” she said softly. She scrambled across the bed to Tara’s side, taking the blonde’s hands in her own. “A baby,” she said again, her excitement growing, brimming over. “We’re having a baby, Tara.”

 

The blonde cast her eyes down. “No,” she countered, “we’re not.”

 

“Oh, right,” said Willow, “yeah, I guess… you’re the one doing the actual **having**. But—”

 

“No, Willow,” Tara said firmly, cutting her off. “I’m not. I’ve decided.”

 

The redhead’s eyebrows knit together. She stared at the blonde disbelievingly. “Decided?” She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if she’d misheard her. Maybe her ears were playing tricks. “What? I… no. No, you can’t have decided. That. You can’t have decided that, Tara.” She was starting to panic now. “It’s impossible. This should have been impossible. But it’s happened for us. For us, Tara. It’s beyond impossible – it’s miraculous. This is a miracle, and you can’t just—”

 

“Willow, stop.” Tara watched as tears spilled down the redhead’s face, replacing the words that had been tumbling from her mouth. “Do you think I didn’t consider that? But the more I think about it, the more it feels like this isn’t so much a miracle as… as a mistake.” Willow sat back suddenly, as if slapped, and dropped the blonde’s hands. “There are so many other things to consider, too, Will,” Tara went on, “School, for one. Money. Our current situation. And… **I’m** not ready for this, Willow. And if the past couple of days have proven anything, you aren’t either.”

 

“But, I could be,” Willow argued. “I could be. Just give me a chance. I’ve given up the magick, for good now. It’s done. And money… I can get a job. Something with computers, maybe. And… and… lots of people with kids are going to college now. And… even if we’re not ‘together’-together, we’d make great parents. Look at Dawn.”

 

Tara’s expression hardened slightly. “I don’t think you’re in the best position to be using Dawn as an example of your excellent parenting skills.”

 

The redhead blanched. “Oh. Right…,” she sniffled.

 

“I’ve made up my mind, Will, and I think it’s the right choice,” she started to cry too, the sadness of the situation overtaking her. “It’s h-hard and it’s awful. And it’s the w-worst thing I’ve ever had to do. So much w-worse than leaving you. But… just like leaving you, it’s the right decision for me. If things were different…” A sudden sob wracked her body; she placed her face in her hands. “Oh god! I wish they were different!” She collapsed in on herself in tears, her entire frame shaking.

 

Willow drew Tara into her arms, grasping at her desperately. “They can be different, Tara, they can. I can be. I already am,” she bellowed between sobs. “Oh, please, Tara. Please. I’m sorry – I’m so, so, sorry, baby. Please!”

 

They held onto each other tightly, riding out their wails and moans. Clinging to each other like seafarers whose boat had sunk beneath them. Willow’s hands creeped up to cradle Tara’s face, willing, begging the blonde to look into her eyes.  “Tara, look at me. Please, baby.” Blue, red-rimmed eyes, looked up into green. “It’s mine, too. Don’t I get any sort of say in this?”

 

Tara shook her head against Willow’s hands. “No.”

 

“Why?” The redhead mewled.

 

Tara took Willow’s hands from off of her face and pushed them down between their bodies, holding them firmly. “Because it’s my body, Will. And no one gets to make decisions about my body, but me.”

 

Somehow, Willow managed to catch her breath, and nodded hesitantly. “Then… why tell me at all? If you’d already made up your mind, did I even need to know?”

 

“I believe in honesty, Will,” Tara said sadly. “And, painful as it is for both of us, you have a right to know.” She sniffled and sighed, lifting a hand to wipe at her tear dampened cheeks. “There was a time when I’d dreamed of this for us. But, not like this. Can’t you see it’s all wrong?”

 

On impulse, Willow slipped down onto her knees in front of Tara, and rested her hands on either side of the blonde’s thighs. “Please don't do this, Tara. Please, please." Her voice was anxious, keening.

 

The blonde squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her jaw began to tremble again. She fought to maintain what little composure she'd managed to regain.

 

"What if," Willow went on, "this happened for a reason? What if it was supposed to?"

 

Tara regarded her sadly, lifting a hand to the other girl's face and running it through a few strands of red hair, grazing her cheek. "Oh, Will... that's not how things work. You know that. This isn't the result of some prophecy. This was just an accident."

 

"Tara..."

 

"I should go," she said, standing.

 

Still kneeling, Willow gripped Tara's thighs. "No, please. Don't. Let's talk about this some more."

 

"There's nothing more to talk about," Tara replied gently, looking down at the redhead on the floor, so devastated and frail. Tara's heart clenched painfully inside of her chest.

 

Willow looked up into blue eyes and saw no anger, no malice. Only profound sadness, resignation and - despite everything - love. Somehow, that hurt even more.

 

"If you do this," Willow said shakily, "I won't be able to forgive you."

 

Tara's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

 

Willow's eyes widened, as if only just hearing what had come from her own mouth. She shook her head side to side quickly, trying to take it back. "No... no, I... I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean it. I don't. I'm just... I'm so tired, Tara."

 

The blonde's expression softened. "I know."

 

"And this hurts so much."

 

"I know."

 

Willow wrapped her arms around Tara's waist and pressed her face into her soft belly.

 

"Willow...," Tara's voice choked. "Don't." 

 

"Just let me have this," she said, voice muffled against the fabric of the blonde's shirt. "Just for a moment. Please."

 

Tara sighed and bit her lip. Unable to resist the impulse, she rested her right hand at the base of Willow's head, cradling it against her. Tears fell from her eyes again as she thought about how sweet this moment should have felt, if the situation were different. If it was "hello" instead of "goodbye".

 

After a few moments more, she dropped her hand to the redhead's shoulder and jostled her gently.

 

"Alright," she said softly, "that's enough."

 

Reluctantly, Willow pulled back, and nodded. With some difficulty, she rose to her feet, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "When are you going to... um... do it?" Unable to look Tara in the eye as she asked the question, her stoic gaze fell on the space just below the blonde's chin.

 

"I don't know," answered Tara, looking down and matching Willow's posture, arms crossed. "Soon."

 

Again, Willow nodded, shifting on her feet. "Can... can I be there?"

 

The blonde's forehead wrinkled as she looked back up. "Haven't I hurt you enough?"

 

"You shouldn't be alone."

 

"I won't be."

 

Willow's eyes refocused on Tara's face. "Who's going with you?"

 

"I don't know yet."

 

“Then… why not me?”

 

“Because this is already painful enough,” said Tara. “And you being there… knowing you don’t agree…”

 

“I may not agree with your decision,” said Willow, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t support you.” She watched Tara look down again and wrap her arms around herself protectively. “We… we started this together. We should… end it… together.”

 

Tara regarded her silently for a few moments. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“Ok. That’s…,” she stopped herself from whatever tangent she was about to go down. “Ok.” She took an awkward step forward, opening her arms. Tara hesitated, and then stepped into them, accepting the embrace for what it was. A need for comfort – both giving and seeking.

 

They held each other closely, heads resting on shoulders, faces buried into necks. Tara grabbed handfuls of Willow’s sweatshirt, clutching at the material on her back. Their bodies shuddered against each other as they were both swept up in another round of weeping. Tara wondered absently if they would ever run out of tears. Or perhaps this was their new reality. Perhaps they would simply never stop crying.

 

After a few more moments, they lifted their heads to look at each other.  Green eyes met blue. Willow’s face started to drift forward. Tara pulled away, her hands dropping down to her sides. She gave the redhead a look of silent rebuke.

 

“I’m sorry, I… it just felt like,” Willow dropped that line of thought. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s ok,” answered Tara. “I know. I just… we can’t. It would be too confusing.”

 

“I know. You’re right.” She took a step back.

 

“I’m going to leave now,” the blonde declared softly.

 

“No,” said Willow, shifting her body slightly to block Tara’s path. “Please, don’t. We don’t have to talk. Just stay with me until Buffy gets back. I’m… I’m afraid of what I might do… if I’m alone right now.”

 

Tara paled. “Hurting yourself won’t solve anything, Will.”

 

Willow shook her head. “No, not that. I would never…. It’s not that. It’s the magick. The urge to fix this. It’s… it’s too strong.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think I can resist it on my own.”

 

“You have to,” said Tara, looking at her seriously. “Because, if you can, then… there’s hope.”

 

“For us?”

 

Tara smiled sadly. “I think so.”

 

“All of us?”

 

“Will…”

 

Willow cast her eyes downward, chastened.  “Right, I…”

 

Tara resisted the urge to reach up and caress the redhead’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve got the harder job here, Will.”

 

“I disagree,” said Willow, lifting her hand and brushing Tara’s upper arm lightly. “It’s so much worse for you. I can see that.” Her arm drifted back down to her side.  She wrestled internally for a moment, unsure if she could say what she was thinking. “I… I love you. This… this won’t change that.”

 

“You don’t know that,” said Tara. “Once… it’s… done. That could change.” She thought back on Willow’s earlier slip about being unable to forgive.

 

“No…,” she replied, head shaking, her voice quavering, “I’ll always love you.”

 

Tara felt herself crumbling again. “I l-love you, too,” she gasped around a fresh sob. She brought her left hand up to cover her mouth, to stifle another guttural lamentation. Willow took a step forward, but the blonde held her right hand up, stopping her.  She swallowed hard, using pure will to pull herself back together. Her hand fell from her face. “I h-have to go.”

 

Willow looked down to the floor. “I know.”

 

Tara stepped away, back to the desk, and picked up her purse.

 

“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

 

“Ok,” said Willow. “I’ll walk you out. If that’s ok.”

 

Tara nodded and, taking a deep breath to steel herself, stepped passed Willow, and back out of the bedroom door. The redhead followed close behind.

 

Once back downstairs in the foyer, Willow helpfully opened the front door. Tara stepped into the open frame and, this time, gave in and caressed Willow’s cheek with her hand – a last gesture of affection. She hoped it would be enough to keep the redhead strong until the slayer returned home. Mentally, she made a note to cast a protective ward on herself once she was at a distance from the house. The necessary precaution of this step saddened her even more. She gave Willow one more, weary, smile and then started on her way down the front steps and back toward campus.

 

As she turned the corner at the end of the block, the emotional equivalent of bailing twine and chewing gum she'd been holding herself together with gave way. She swiftly sat on the curbside before her knees could give out, pressed her hands against her belly and wailed.

 

As she wept uncontrollably, she could hear the sounds of running feet pounding against the pavement heading toward her, and her name being called.

 

“Tara? Tara!” Buffy’s voice was worried and shrill.

 

“Oh god, Tara!” Dawn’s was even more high-pitched, scared and angry.

 

The Summers women raced up to her, dropping to their knees and framing her on either side.

 

“Tara, what happened?” asked Buffy. “Are you ok?”

 

“Did… did Willow hurt you?” said Dawn, her tone implying that she was already preparing her revenge.

 

“No,” said Tara, trying to catch her breath, “no, she didn’t. It’s nothing like that.” She looked up at Buffy. “You… you should get back to the h-house. Willow shouldn’t be al-lone for long.”

 

The slayer nodded. “Dawn, stay with Tara.” The diminutive blonde leapt to her feet and sprinted back up the sidewalk, toward home.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Dawn snuggled up to Tara, wrapping her good arm around the blonde’s shoulders.

 

“I guess whatever you talked about didn’t go well, huh?” the teenager surmised.

 

Tara actually managed to laugh a little, wiping at her eyes. “Actually, it went about as well as it could.”

 

“Then… what’s wrong,” asked Dawn. “What happened? Most people don’t sit on a street corner and cry over good news.”

 

 _I wouldn’t call it ‘good news’…_ “It’s nothing you need to worry about, sweetie.”

 

Dawn sighed in frustration. “You can tell me. I’m not a baby. You don’t have to protect me from stuff.”

 

“I know,” said Tara. “But this is too personal. It’s between Willow and me… and it needs to stay that way. Ok?”

 

The teenager nodded reluctantly. “Ok.” She hated not being told what was going on.  “You… wanna thumb wrestle?”

 

Tara exhaled, chuckling through her nose. “Sure. B-but only for a few minutes. Then you should get home and I n-need to get back to campus.”

 

“Best of seven?” Dawn said hopefully.

 

“O-ok,” Tara agreed.

 

The young girl dropped her arm from Tara’s shoulder, and the pair curled their right hands together, preparing to battle.

 

***

 

By the time Tara made it back to her dorm, there were several messages waiting for her on her machine. The first was from another student in her Art History class, asking if she had the notes from last week’s lecture. The second was from Dawn.

 

"Tara, it's Dawn. I know you won't tell me what happened between you and Willow, but I just thought you should know - whatever it was it's made her even more serious about quitting magick. When I got home, Buffy was packing away all of the magick stuff in the house. Even all of the candles and Mom's Kokopelli statue. At first I thought it was because Willow had screwed up and tried to cast a spell again - but Buff said it was Willow's idea. That she didn't want to be near any of it. All of the boxes are on the front porch waiting for Xander to come by and get them. But the biggest thing is Willow asked Buffy to take her to a NA meeting tonight. I guess it's the closest thing she could find to a Magick-users Anonymous or something. She found a group that meets at the 'Y' downtown. So, anyway, I just thought you should know. Oh, and I think some of the magick stuff that got boxed up was yours, so you'll need to get it from Xander.  Ok, that's it for now. I'll talk to you later. Bye!"

 

Tara spent several long minutes staring at the machine. Finally, she moved away from her desk and sat at the edge of her bed.

 

_Willow..._

 

A cautious smile drifted onto her lips. 

 

_A NA meeting...wow..._

 

She sat quietly for a while, lost in thought. 

 

_It's a good start, anyway. A very good start. But..._

 

She looked down and realized she'd been absent-mindedly caressing her belly. She snatched her hand away just as the phone rang again.

 

She stepped over to her desk, answering.

 

"H-Hello?"

 

She listened for a response. Nothing but silence for a moment, and then the sound of a click followed by a recorded message:

 

"This is the Sunnydale Women's Clinic calling with a reminder for...TARA for an appointment this... FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16TH at... THREE...P.M. with... DR. BETH HARKER at our downtown facility. If you have any questions about your appointment or need to reschedule, please call our main office at--"

 

Already knowing the number, she hung up.

 

The appointment was only a consultation, but it caused her guts to dip and twist. It made everything so much more real. 

 

Not knowing what else to do with herself in that moment, she shuffled through the notebooks on her desk, found the one with her art history notes, and headed back out of her room, toward the library to make copies that she could then deliver to her classmate’s dorm. The task would occupy her for a while at least. After that there were other things she could do. Laundry, for one. She’d let things pile up a bit more than usual since she’d moved back to campus. There was a shirt she liked to wear when she needed a little pick-me-up: it was a simple long-sleeved, blue tie-dyed thing with a little string tie at the top. She didn’t know why, but wearing it always made her feel a little better. It was currently in the hamper. She had a paper due soon too that she could work on. For her Ethics class.

 

The notion of ethics stopped her cold.

 

 _Am I doing the right thing? Ethically? … Morally?_ Her mind swam. _Goddess… this feels like ‘The Trolley Problem’… but instead of taking one life to save many… it’s ‘whose life do I ruin to protect someone else’s?’ Will my life be ruined if I keep it? If I don’t? Will Willow’s? I thought I had this figured out. I’ve already told her I’d made up my mind._

 

“Um, excuse me?” A soft, apologetic, voice came from her left. She looked over and saw a small, bespectacled, young man standing there with a stack of reference books. “Are you still using the copier,” he asked.

 

“Oh,” said Tara, embarrassed. “N-no. I’m done.” She quickly grabbed up her copies and pulled her notebook from the glass. “You g-go ahead.” Ducking her head shyly, she scurried away, back out toward the center of campus.

 

_What if Willow really does get better? What if she really does keep her promise this time? What if we… if we could get passed this… be together again. What if I’m destroying our chances this time, instead of her?_

_No. No, I can’t keep thinking about things that way. There’s no guarantee we’re going to get back together. I have made up my mind. The timing is horrible. I’m not ready. **She’s** not ready. It’s too much. We’re too young. It all feels wrong. _

_But, Momma was younger than me when she had…. No. It was a different time, Tara. With different expectations. Plus, she was already married to dad and they already had the farm…. I can’t draw parallels._

_This is so messed up._

 

She lifted her hand and knocked on the door in front of her. A young woman answered. She looked as though she had been sleeping.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“H-hey… is Sherri around? I’m Tara, from Art History. She n-needed to borrow my notes.”

 

“Oh, um... she’s not around but I can take them. Put them on her bed or something.”

 

“G-great,” said Tara, handing the small sheaf of papers over. “Here you go.”

 

The girl took them, without any trace of enthusiasm. “Yeah, great. Thanks… what was your name again?”

 

“T-Tara.”

 

“Thanks, Tara. I’ll let her know.”

“Ok, um…bye.”

 

“Yeah,” said the girl with a yawn, as she slid the door closed.

 

Turning on her heel, Tara started back toward her own dorm.

 

 _What would Momma think? What would she say? What would she want me to do? I mean… after the shock had worn off and she’d regained the power of speech…._ Tara sighed, already knowing the answer. _She’d want me to do what was right for me… and she’d support me no matter what._ _Mom was pro-choice. I mean, she had to be quiet about it… but she was. And she raised me to be. I just never thought I’d have to make **this** choice…_

 

She thought about Willow’s frantic claim of the miraculous and pondered.

_Here I am, in what could be considered an enviable position – a lesbian who got pregnant with her partner with no need for an anonymous third party “donation”.  Am I the worst kind of ingrate by saying “no”?_

 

_I know it feels like it should be a ‘miracle’. But it’s not. The fact is this outcome was never impossible; just improbable. If it was impossible then all magick should be impossible. But it’s not… it’s just… practiced manipulation of physical forces. Willow would be the first person to say that._

_So why didn’t she?_

_Oh, come on, Tara. You saw her. She was a wreck. Grasping at anything. Talk about ‘miracles’, it was a ‘miracle’ that she was able to keep herself as together as much as she did. Regardless of how this situation came to be… it’s still all wrong._

_But at least she stopped fighting me… seemed to accept things._

_But what if she was only pretending? What if that megawatt brain of hers was hatching some plan? Like, when I asked her take a break from magick for a week and she looked me in the eye and agreed, while already plotting that stupid memory spell._

_No. No… this… this feels different._

_Doesn’t it?_

 

She stopped in her tracks, just inside her dorm building’s commons.

 

_Goddess… I hate being so suspicious! I have got to get out of my head. Maybe there’s a movie showing at the student union tonight or something…_

 

She checked the corkboard by the stairs. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

 

‘ _Look Who’s Talking?’ Seriously? Very funny, Universe. Very funny._

 

The more she thought about it, the more it did strike her as incredibly funny. So funny, in fact, that she started to laugh - borderline hysterically - by herself, in the middle of the dorm commons. By the time she managed to get control of herself and was merely giggling, she’d attracted the gaping attention of at least a half-dozen other students.

 

“Inside j-joke,” she said, mumbling, and then legged it up the stairs.

 

Back in the safety of her room, Tara's attention turned to the laundry hamper. Anything to keep herself busy. But she also felt very tired. She'd been tired a lot, recently. Now that she knew why, the fatigue served to make her simultaneously anxious. It was a disturbing combination and she didn't like feeling so off balance.

 

Tabling the notion of laundry for now, Tara decided instead to meditate. She'd do it lying on the bed; and if she happened to drift off to sleep once she'd managed to center herself, a nap would be a welcome side-effect.

 

***

 

The sound of her phone ringing roused Tara from her slumber. Groaning, she slowly sat up and glanced at the clock: 9:37pm.

 

Shaking her head to clear away any lingering cobwebs, she stood and staggered slightly over to the phone on her desk.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Tara, hi... I hope I didn't... did I wake you?"

 

"Hi, Buffy. It's ok. Is everything alright?"

 

"I feel like I should be asking you that."

 

"Um..." _Does she know? Did Willow tell her?_

 

"When I got home after leaving you with Dawn, Will was... well... she was a mess. I found her on the floor at the foot of the stairs, hanging onto the bannister like a life raft. I've never seen her cry like that before, Tara - not even after what happened last night with Dawn."

 

Tara felt her own tears starting to brim again. Her heart ached thinking of Willow so despairing and knowing that it was because of her. "Buffy, I..."

 

"But then," the slayer continued, "it was like a switch went off. The waterworks stopped and 'resolve face' turned on. Then she starts asking me to box up--"

 

"I know," said Tara, cutting her off. "S-sorry. Dawn left a message earlier."

 

"Oh. Well... did she tell you about the NA meeting?"

 

"Yes."

 

As with their conversation that morning, the women sat silently on the phone together for several long moments. Tara could hear soft rustling in the background, along with Buffy's even breathing against the receiver.

 

"Tara... when Willow was crying, she said something..."

 

Tara's heart started beating fast and she felt her upper body start to shake. She knew what was coming next, and she didn't know what she was going to say. She remained silent, quietly hyperventilating, waiting for Buffy to continue.

 

"She said, 'It's my fault the baby's gone.' At first, I just thought she meant you. I'd heard her call you 'baby' before. But... I don't think that's what she meant today."

 

Tara pursed her lips together and swallowed. She started to feel nauseated. She wasn't prepared to have this conversation again today. 

 

"Tara, do you know what... what she meant?"

 

Tara closed her eyes and fought the immense urge to press her hand protectively to her belly. Instead, she gripped the phone so tightly the plastic creaked. "Y-yes." She listened a moment. The lack of a reply told her that the slayer was waiting for her to explain. "It's... I can't." She felt herself choking up. She took another deep breath and swallowed again. _Goddess, will I ever stop going to pieces?_

 

"Sure, right, sorry," stammered Buffy. "I shouldn't have... sorry. Stupid me and curiosity... killing.... cats and stuff. Oh, hey - change of subject. I actually called you for another reason."

 

Tara's brow furrowed. "Oh?"

 

"Yeah," said Buffy, finding her stride on safer ground. "Can I list you as a reference?"

 

"A r-reference?"

 

"Yeah, on job applications? I'm applying a few places and references are a thing they want so...," she drifted off a moment. "Anyway, I put down Giles - but he's in England so they probably won't call him. And I listed Xander. I just need one more."

 

"Not Willow?"

 

Buffy sighed, "Apparently a person doesn't count as a real reference if they live with you."

 

"Of course, you can add me as a reference, Buffy. I'm happy I can help."

 

"Thanks, Tara, I appreciate it."

 

Tara nodded against the handset and chewed her lip. "Um, Buffy, I... I'm glad that Willow is... doing... doing everything she can. But, I need... I'm not... n-not going to be around for a while."

 

"Tara..."

 

"I'm not leaving town. I st-still have school and you and Dawn c-can call me any...," she exhaled, "a-any time. But Willow needs to fight this on her own and I... I h-have things I need... I n-need..." She was becoming increasingly distraught.

 

"Tara, it's okay," Buffy said soothingly, "you don't have to explain. I understand. Dawn will, too. I'll talk to her."

 

"Thanks," she sighed, swiping her sleeve at her face to catch her tears. "Buffy, can I ask a favor," she sniffled.

 

"Yeah, of course. Anything."

 

"Can you keep an eye on Will for me?"

 

"Oh. Sure. Kind of thought I already was..."

 

"She's going to need you, Buffy. Really need you. Putting the magick behind her is one thing. But there other things... big, scary, emotional things that she'll need her best friend to help her with."

 

The line was quiet for a moment as Buffy considered Tara's statement.

 

"And... what about your big, scary, emotional things, Tara? Who will be your best friend?"

 

She chuckled dryly. "I'll manage."

 

"I'm serious. Whatever it is. If Willow shouldn't be alone, neither should you."

 

"I won't be. I've got someone I can talk to."

 

***

 

"I didn't think lesbians had abortions," Anya said thoughtfully over a cup of tea.

 

She and Tara were seated on the sectional sofa in her and Xander's apartment. It was Friday evening, and the blonde Wiccan had decided to stop by after her consulting appointment at the Women's Clinic. 

 

"They don't, usually," Tara replied patiently. Somehow, the ex-demon's bluntness almost made it easier to talk about. Almost. "This isn't a situation most lesbians find themselves in. I mean, you know, as in: unplanned."

 

"And you really don't want it?"

 

Tara winced. "It isn't as simple as that."

 

"Isn't it? I thought that was the point. Women have abortions in cases of unwanted--"

 

"Anya..."

 

"I'm sorry," said Anya, in her gentlest tone. "This is a sad time and I'm being loud and saying ignorant things." She reached over and, with a practiced air, patted Tara comfortingly on the arm.

 

Tara smiled gloomily at her friend. "It's ok. I know it's confusing. It's confusing for me, too." She gazed into the mug of hot tea in her hands. "I wish it was as simple as, 'I don't want this, get it out of me.' But it's not. Because... because..."

 

"It's Willow's," Anya finished for her.

 

Tara nodded wordlessly and bit back tears. "If things hadn't fallen apart," she said, "if we were still together... if Willow hadn't started abusing the magick... we'd... "

 

"You wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Anya noted, cutting her short.

 

"Probably not," Tara sighed. 

 

Anya regarded her curiously. "What does it feel like? Being pregnant."

 

"Mostly I feel bloated, and tired and... nauseous," answered Tara. "And I sort of feel 'on edge' emotionally all of the time. Everything feels bigger."

 

The ex-demon's expression was pinched. "Well, that certainly does sound unpleasant." She took a sip of tea.

 

Tara leaned back into the sofa cushions and tucked her legs underneath her. She ran her thumb over the lip of her cup and tried to find the words for what she needed to ask.

 

"Anya," she began, haltingly, "when I go in to... have it done... I need to bring someone with me. I won't be allowed to leave the clinic after... if I'm alone."

 

"Are you asking me to go with you?"

 

"Y-yes. Willow asked to be there... but it just feels so... cruel."

 

Anya's forehead wrinkled. "Cruel of her?"

 

Tara shook her head. "Of me... to her." She took a deep breath. "Plus, if she was there... I probably wouldn't go through with it. My need to protect her would outweigh everything else."

 

Anya placed her hand on Tara’s knee. “You know I’ve got quite a lot of experience with cruelty. And, in my expert opinion, I don’t see any here.”

 

Tara, with some effort, gave her a sad, watery, smile.

 

“No,” continued the ex-demon, “what I see is my friend, who is very sad, making a decision, that is very difficult, and still trying to shelter the person who has hurt her so terribly.”

 

Tara stared off into the middle distance, lost in thought. She thought about clouds, and the color of fire, and Willow’s hair… and, strangely, the scent of an orange peel. Was it a craving? She pushed the thought aside. Coming back to herself, she looked at Anya. “What if… what if keeping it… is what Willow needs to stay…,” she struggled to find the right word.

 

“Sober,” said Anya, helpfully. “Magickally sober?”

 

Tara sighed and nodded, immediately recognizing the folly of her notion. “No… no… she needs to get better for herself. Not for me. Not for….” She drifted off. “It’s not enough of a reason. It’s the wrong reason.”

 

“Of course, I’ll go with you,” said Anya, her hand still on Tara’s knee. She gave a gentle squeeze. “It may sound strange but, I’m honored you would ask me.” Bringing her hand back to her lap, she continued, “Trust is a commodity, like pork-bellies. It’s something of use and value. Makes you part of the larger transaction of humanity.  I haven’t traded in trust very much since I became a human. I mean, I trust Xander… and he trusts me. But I haven’t felt that kind of trust from anyone else. Except you. So, thank you.”

 

Tara, understanding the true depth of Anya’s words, tried again to smile – to show some element of gratitude; but her mind was once again swimming and her heart was awash in sadness and she knew that any smile that she managed would be hollow. Instead, she reached over and placed her hand on Anya’s and simply nodded.

 

***

 

Tara winced at the sound of the paper crinkling beneath her as she laid back on the exam table. Her heart was racing; she could hear it pounding in her ears. She glanced at the closed door, nervously – remaining oblivious to the bustle of activity in the room around her. There were only two other people with her: the doctor and a nurse, but the space felt impossibly small and cramped. The gown she’d been given to wear was soft, but the material at the collar felt slightly itchy. There was a draft coming up under the draping covering her legs, and it made her feel entirely exposed. She stared at the ceiling. It had a poster of kittens in a basket taped to it. She thought of Miss Kitty and wondered if she was alright, wherever she’d run to, after Glory had attacked. She jumped when she felt a gloved hand touch her arm.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the nurse. “I just need to get your I.V. started. Ok?”

 

Tara nodded mutely and held her arm out from her side. She felt the rubber strap pulled around her upper arm, tied tight, the force of the elastic burning against her skin – her hand started to tingle. Then the pinch of the needle, the snap of the butterfly clip. The strap released and feeling returned to her hand. She looked over and watched the nurse apply tape over the injection site, securing the needle and tubing in place. She looked up to the fluid bag hanging from a post at the back of the table; focused on the drip, drip, drip of saline into the chamber at the base.

 

“Alright, Tara,” said Dr. Harker from a stool at her feet, “I think we’re ready to get started. Go ahead and scoot down toward me a little more.”

 

She shifted down the table, the paper crackled angrily; she clamped her eyes shut and swallowed.

 

“Like we discussed, I’m going to tell you everything as I do it…. Ok, the first thing you’re going to feel is my touch.” Tara jerked involuntarily at the sensation. “I’m sorry,” said the doctor, “I know, it’s always strange. Alright, next I’m going to place the speculum so I can expose your cervix.”

 

Tara’s jaw tightened, pulling her face into a grimace, as she felt the hard instrument press into her and stretch her open.

 

“Now I’m just going to cleanse your cervix with a little anti-septic solution,” continued Dr. Harker, “you’ll probably feel some of it spill back out, that’s totally normal. Ok, and now you’re going to feel a little pinch. That’s just a little injection of medication to numb the area.”

 

Tara felt the sting, and her eyes started to fill with tears. They were approaching the point of no return. Dr. Harker had gone through the procedure with her at the consultation. Fear, anxiety, and grief all welled up inside her at once as she felt the tears in her eyes spill over and cascade down the sides of her face.

 

“Nurse, forceps,” the doctor commanded, quietly. “Ok, Tara, this is just to hold everything steady during the procedure. Alright, now I’m going to begin the process of dilating your cervix and after that will be the curettage. Then we’ll be done.”

 

She nodded mutely and gripped the bedside. She started to hyperventilate and shudder as she gave in to crying. She felt the nurse’s hand on her shoulder and looked up into kind brown eyes.

 

“It’s alright,” said the nurse, “we can take a minute if you need it.”

 

Tara felt the action inside of her cease, and Dr. Harker pull away.  Still looking into the nurse’s eyes, Tara shook her head side-to-side. The nurse gave Dr. Harker a subtle nod to continue. Tara looked down and saw the doctor reach over to the instrument tray and lift what looked like one of several long, slightly curved, rods. As she watched the item disappear beneath the drape, she found her voice.

 

“W-wait.”

 

***

 

**Six Months Later**

 

It was time. Tara could feel it. The change was unmistakable. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was coming. Prepared for what she was finally ready to do. Exhaling, she took one last moment to center herself… and pushed forward.

 

“Things fall apart,” she said from the doorway to Willow’s room. “They fall apart so hard.”

 

Willow looked up from where she was laying on the bed, reviewing a textbook. She sat up, clearly surprised to see the blonde standing there.

 

“Tara?”

 

“You can’t ever put them back the way they were.”

 

“Are you okay,” Willow asked.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…,” she drifted off and, for a moment, allowed herself to think back on all of the pain they’d both been through. Willow’s addiction, violation and betrayal. Tara’s impossible choice – she’d wavered on the table, but only for a moment. These were the scars they’d carved into each other. Permanent marks of pain and loss. She crossed into the room, to stand by the desk as she had six months ago, when she’d been there for a different talk. They’d only recently started speaking again. “You know it takes time. You can’t just… have coffee and expect…”

 

“I know,” said Willow, sad and a little ashamed.

 

“There’s so much to work through,” Tara went on, “Trust has to be built again – on both sides. You have to learn if we’re even the same people we were; if you can fit in each other’s lives.” She watched as the redhead seemed to curl in on herself. Still, she kept on. “It’s a long and important process… and… can we just skip it? Can you just be kissing me now?”

 

Willow hesitated for only a moment, just long enough to make sure she’d not misheard Tara’s words. Then she raced from the bed and into Tara’s arms. And between them there was only forgiveness, acceptance and love.

 

And all was right with the world.

 

End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Willow and Tara and other characters borrowed from the television show Buffy: the Vampire Slayer are the property of their creator, Joss Whedon, and his affiliates, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers and Dark Horse Comics. The characters may not be mine, but this story is. Please don’t plagiarize
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks!


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